Chapter6 I'd Rather Marry a Cripple
Chloe
The alarm screamed at 5:30 AM.
I woke in our cramped East LA apartment, the familiar sounds filtering through thin walls—car alarms, shouting in Spanish, rattling pipes.
Ethan had left a note on the counter next to scrambled eggs and toast: "Eat. You need your strength today. —E."
I stared at his handwriting, my stomach knotting. Last night kept replaying—Ethan's fist connecting with Richard's face, the blood, the rage. Richard wouldn't let that go. Men like him never did.
My phone buzzed—a text from Julian in Taipei: "Landing in three hours. How are you?"
I typed back: "I'm okay. Good luck with the acquisition."
His reply came instantly: "If anything happens, call me. I mean it, Chloe."
By 7:15 AM, I walked into the Goldman building, bracing myself.
The moment I stepped into the office, I felt it—conversations dying mid-sentence. My desk was buried under files.
A yellow Post-it in Richard's scrawl: "All of these need to be incorporated into the Wilson report. Deadline unchanged."
Lily appeared at my elbow. "Chloe, this is insane. He announced it in the morning meeting—said you volunteered for the additional workload."
I looked at the mountain of work. 7:23 AM. This was punishment.
"I've got this," I said quietly, pulling out my chair.
The next four hours passed in a blur of spreadsheets and desperate coffee runs.
Richard walked past. A large bruise purpled his left cheekbone, and a white bandage stretched across his nose. He moved stiffly, favoring his right side.
His hand came to rest on my chair, too close.
"Making progress?" His voice was cold. "You know, Harrison, you really should teach that savage brother of yours some manners. Assaulting a Goldman managing director? That's a criminal offense."
My hands froze on the keyboard.
"I'll have it done by five," I said without looking up.
He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. "You think your wild animal brother can protect you? He just made everything worse. For both of you."
By noon, I'd finished maybe half the work. My phone rang—reception.
"Ms. Harrison, there's a Ms. Sterling here to see you."
Mia.
My stomach dropped.
When the elevator doors opened, I saw her immediately.
Mia stood in the lobby wearing a white Chanel suit, a Hermès Birkin dangling from her arm. Her new Maserati was parked illegally outside.
She'd timed this perfectly—lunch hour, maximum humiliation.
I stepped back behind a pillar, my heart pounding.
She hadn't seen me yet. The last time Mia laid eyes on me, I was still 200 pounds, hiding behind oversized sweaters and shame.
That was over a year ago—before the weight loss, before the transformation, before I became someone she wouldn't recognize in a crowd.
And I had no intention of letting her see me now.
I watched from the shadows as Mia walked to the reception desk, her voice carrying across the lobby. "I need to see Chloe Harrison. Tell her Mia Sterling is here."
The receptionist smiled politely. "Do you have an appointment? Ms. Harrison is currently handling an urgent project."
Mia's face darkened. "What appointment? I'm her sister!"
"I'm sorry, but company policy requires—"
"I know what's happening." Mia's voice rose deliberately.
"Chloe's too ashamed to see me! Makes sense—married to a bankrupt cripple, living in that falling-apart haunted house, taking care of a wheelchair-bound waste of space while slaving away here to pay medical bills... Poor thing! She can't even face her own sister!"
The lobby went silent. Several employees pulled out their phones, recording.
My nails dug into my palms, but I didn't move.
Not yet.
Mia continued, clearly enjoying her performance. "I came all this way to check on her, even brought canned soup and old clothes since she probably can't afford food or decent clothing anymore. But what can you do? She was blind enough to marry that waste of space!"
Let her perform, I thought coldly. Let her dig her own grave deeper.
The day she finally saw what I'd become—what I'd survived, what I'd built—would be so much sweeter for her ignorance now.
Just then, Richard stepped out of the elevator, his bruised face twisting into a smile. He walked over to Mia.
"So Harrison married a cripple? No wonder she's been working so desperately. Must be supporting the whole household."
He turned to the gathering crowd. "Such a shame. Harrison has potential. But I suppose when you come from poverty, you can't be picky about marriage prospects."
His eyes gleamed. "Still, she's doing well under my guidance. I'll take good care of her. After all, that crippled husband certainly can't provide."
Mia beamed. "Well then, I'll leave my poor 'sister' in your capable hands!" She clicked away on her heels, leaving behind whispers.
My phone lit up with messages—screenshots and videos of Mia's "performance" spreading through the company intranet.
I watched the video, trembling.
Lily touched my arm. "You okay?"
I took a deep breath and felt something inside me go cold and clear.
I pulled up every piece of work I'd produced over the past year—every analysis Richard had stolen, every proposal he'd tampered with, every instance of abuse. I organized it all into a file.
At 4:00 PM, Richard appeared at my desk, eyeing the unfinished work with satisfaction.
"Looks like you need help, Harrison. Come to my office tonight for a private 'tutoring session.'" He touched the bandage on his nose.
"Your savage brother thought he could intimidate me. But he's just a stupid kid. Your crippled husband can't help you either. But I can. Just be 'cooperative,' and maybe I'll forget about pressing charges."
I stood slowly. In front of the entire office, I picked up my iced coffee and threw it in his face, drenching his Tom Ford suit.
The office went dead silent.
"Richard Carter, I resign effective immediately. These are copies of evidence documenting your violations. Originals have been sent to compliance, HR, and the SEC."
I paused, my eyes sweeping across everyone watching.
"As for my husband—he may use a wheelchair, he may be bankrupt, but at least he doesn't sexually harass subordinates. At least he doesn't kick people when they're down. I'd rather marry an honest cripple than associate with you dressed-up animals for one more second."
Richard's face went purple. He reached for my wrist, but I jerked away, packing my belongings.
I walked out of the office with my head high, finally free.
Back at our apartment, I stared at Mom's medical bills, anxiety creeping in.
How would I cover next month's treatment?
My phone buzzed—incoming transfer notification. $50,000. Memo: "Clinical trial stipend advance—Cedars-Sinai Medical Center."
I called the hospital, confused. "Your mother's been enrolled in a new targeted therapy trial. Treatment is fully covered."
"But I never applied—"
"Her case was flagged automatically. You're very lucky. Only five slots available, and the medication costs over $150,000 monthly."
I hung up, my mind racing. This was too convenient. Too perfectly timed. Julian.
Ethan brought me instant noodles. "You really don't regret quitting?"
"No. Some things matter more than money."
He was quiet. "That Julian guy... is he good to you?"
I thought of Julian's concerned texts, the way I'd defended him today without thinking. "He's... decent. Honest, at least."
Julian
I stared at my laptop in the Taipei hotel suite. The security footage from my Goldman contact had arrived within the hour.
I watched her throw the coffee. Watched Richard's expensive suit drip with humiliation.
I replayed it. Again.
She'd defended me. Even when the entire lobby mocked the rumors—the cripple, the bankrupt, the waste of space—she'd stood up for me.
I picked up my phone.
"Accelerate Astor Capital's hiring. Ms. Harrison's resume gets priority the second it comes in." I didn't wait for confirmation. "Richard Carter's key projects—cut them all. Bleed him dry within forty-eight hours."
My voice dropped colder. "And Mia Sterling. I want everything. Every secret, every debt, every lie. On my desk by morning."
I ended the call and looked back at the screen.
At my wife walking out with her head high.
She had no idea what was coming.
But she'd never fight alone again.
